


Grave Digger

by kiranightshade



Series: twcaw [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Cora Hale, Captivity, Feral Derek, Hale Family Feels, Hand Feeding, Hurt Peter, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Sadism, Scenting, Soulmates, The Hale Fire, Trauma, Uncle/Nephew Incest, Werewolf Mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-14 03:46:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14127381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiranightshade/pseuds/kiranightshade
Summary: Peter never gave much thought to mate bonds, but he felt it the moment he held his nephew in his arms and he swore then and there that no harm would ever come to him.Derek grows up hearing about mate bonds. He knows that they're rare, and that they're supposed to be like a fairy tale come to life. He's thirteen when he recognizes a bond in him that doesn't belong to anyone in his pack, and he hopes.





	Grave Digger

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first day for TWCAW and I'm so excited for this week you don't even know. I've got something for almost every day but I don't know if they'll all be on time. Here's day one tho!!! 
> 
> The title is the song "Grave Digger", by Blues Saraceno because I couldn't think of anything and I've been listening to this song a lot while writing this.

Peter remembers the first time he held his mate in his arms. He remembers his cries to the world and he remembers them dying the moment they touched. He was such a small thing then. Everyone expected him to be human, but Peter didn’t care. He held his baby nephew close and cared for him when Talia looked elsewhere.

Peter remembers the first time his mate shifted. He was two years old and Laura had pushed him into a puddle. He snapped at her, and Talia disapproved when Peter didn’t reprimand him. She continued to glare at him when he took his hand and cleaned him up. Peter didn’t give her much thought. She couldn’t afford to lose her enforcer.

Peter remembers teaching his mate how to read ancient Greek, and all the different creatures of myth living among them. Derek loved every minute of it. He always asked questions, directing them into new paths that Peter had never thought to explore. By the time he turned five, he was often found tucked away in Peter’s study with books barricaded around him. His mate is brilliant and Peter couldn’t be more proud if he tried. 

Peter remembers becoming reckless and Talia discovering just how deep his bond with Derek was. Peter never acted inappropriately, but you can’t disguise your chemo signals and there are distinct differences in types of love, ones which Talia can differentiate. 

He remembers a stranger’s knee on his chest and powder in his nose and her red eyes looking down on him. 

He can feel his mate’s anguish at his absence, and he strains against his chains. They must be magically reinforced for them to hold Peter so completely, and fighting only wears him out quicker. It is a painful existence that he is only forced to endure so that his pack does not lose the power his bond gives them. Every now and again Talia appears with the stranger who has replaced him and they force sustenance down his throat and a foreign liquid into his veins. The rest of the time is spent in darkness, kneeling on the unforgiving concrete, his arms numb from lack of blood flow. 

Talia comes in one day, a haughty expression on her face. Peter snarls. She smirks at him, and he hates the fear it puts in him. With every step she takes into his space, her heels echo and hurt his ears. She tells him about Derek. It’s the first time she’s so much as mentioned his name. Peter knows it will only hurt, but he can’t help but grasp at any scraps she throws his way.

She tells him of a girl, and a piece of Peter breaks inside. His mate must be sixteen by now. It was only a matter of time. He probably doesn’t even remember Peter anymore. Peter refuses to let Talia see how it affects him. She dares to press her claw under his chin and he snaps at her. He scrapes her finger enough for a bit of blood to drop to the floor before it heals. She snarls and backhands him. Peter doesn’t care. 

A trace of Derek’s scent is left behind when she leaves. It is then that Peter allows himself to cry. 

 

*** 

 

Peter smells smoke and then he can’t feel anything but pain. What little connection he was able to maintain with his pack breaks one by one until Peter is left hanging limp in his cellar, reeling from the loss. It is a dull ache that does not fade in the coming days, and then weeks. Nobody comes to feed him, and he accepts his fate. He will starve here, and he will see his mate again. He longs for the day the chains’ magic break and he may run alongside his mate in the afterlife. 

He does not die in the coming years. His chains will not allow it. They keep him alive, but barely. He wonders why Talia ever came to him. He sees now that she was far more sadistic than he ever thought. Her death gives him a petty sort of peace. 

The liquid they injected him with wears off, and the pain of his dead pack intensifies to unimaginable heights until it becomes a dull ache once more. He stops counting the months. He is more aware during the full moon, but it is not the gift it once was. Little is. 

 

*** 

 

He wakes to fighting above him and he doesn’t register what it means at first. 

Peter assumed he was in the preserve within days of his imprisonment. That belief has never wavered. The scent of smoke was so faint that Peter had put aside any thoughts of discovery. He is deep in the wilderness and the only chance of salvation is a wild animal making his prison their home, or so he thought. He strains to hear the voices above him. There is a man, a woman, and another heartbeat. The third person does not speak and Peter cannot discern anything more than that.

The man wins, and the sound of chains breaking pierce the air. Peter looks up despite himself and is disappointed when his remain intact. 

“Hey big guy,” the man says, his voice soft. “You’re okay now. It’s going to be alright.”

The third person only growls and Peter stiffens. That is not just the growl of wolf, but the growl of a feral omega who is scared and hurt. 

Peter shouts, and his voice cracks. It is enough to catch the attention of the omega, who he can hear scratching at his door. 

“What is it?”  The man asks. Peter shouts at him, urging him to get away. 

“Is there someone down there!”

The door breaks inwards, a half-shifted man tumbling into the cellar. Peter scrambles back as best he can. He’s too weak to shift, but he snarls at him in a desperate attempt to scare him off. 

“Holy shit,” the man breathes, his phone out as a flashlight.

The omega rushes at him, and Peter freezes. The pain of claws and teeth never come. Instead, the man buries his face in the crease of his neck and shoulder, nuzzling into him and whining as he takes in deep lungfulls of his scent. It is then that Peter inhales, his face pressed against the omega’s hair. 

Peter makes a noise then, and no creature would be able to accurately describe it. They could try, but the answers would vary greatly. Some would say it was a sound of pure anguish, while others would call it a sound of joy. What they all would agree upon is that it marked the moment that Peter Hale recognized his mate after sixteen years of forced separation. 

“Derek?” Peter chokes out. 

Derek whines louder, pushing harder into him. Peter wraps his legs around him in a facsimile of a hug. 

“Derek,” Peter mutters, “Derek, Derek, Derek. Oh, my dear, I thought you were dead.”

They nuzzle against each other in a display of pure canine affection. Peter’s world narrows to the man in his lap, to the way he clings to him even in his state. 

It’s a sobering thought, only heightened by the man saying, “Derek?” by the door. 

“Is that your name?” he asks Derek.

“Yes.” Peter says. “I would appreciate a little assistance.”

“Oh, yeah. Of course.”

The man snaps out of his daze and rushes over to them. He examines his chains before rushing back outside. Peter yells after him, and he returns moments later with pliers. 

Peter screams when he lowers his arms. 

 

*** 

 

Stiles is a witch, and it saves Peter’s life. 

Peter had forgotten how the chains were keeping him alive, and it was only Stiles’ quick thinking that sustained him. Derek carries him at Stiles’ request, for Peter cannot stand on his own. They bring him to his car where he is positioned over Derek’s lap in the back. Every bump in the road hurts, his bones taking the brunt of the damage. He clings to Derek through it all, who has not stopped scenting him. 

They park and Peter looks up. They’ve arrived at the hospital, and Peter doesn’t fight it. Starvation isn’t something he can heal. 

Derek stays in the car while Stiles carries him. The E.R. is bright, and loud, and Peter whines into Stiles’ shoulder. It hurts when he’s transferred to a wheelchair and he’s rushed deeper into the hospital. 

Peter answers their questions the best that he can. They may never know Talia’s motivation, but neither will Peter, officially. They tell him the year is 2017, and that his family is all dead. He thinks of Derek waiting for him, and he wonders just how long he’s been feral. He wonders just how long he’s been waiting.

He regains his strength slowly, one adipose tissue at a time. It is frustrating being so dependent on the people around him, having to watch how much he eats, what he eats. Stiles visits regularly, and that makes it bearable. He comes with gifts, unfamiliar rituals that speed his healing. He tells him about Derek, asks him questions. He doesn’t treat him like the pitiful creature he is, or the miracle he’s been called. 

“I’ve been trying to bring Derek back for a year now,” Stiles tells him. “I found him by accident when my dad was called out for a murder.” He exhales a snort, “I thought he was going to kill me.” 

“Why didn’t he?”

“I was sort of hoping you’d tell me that.”

“No wolf comes back from going feral. They can’t. How…”

How could they not know how to bring someone back from that, Peter thinks. This man has done so many impossible things. Could he really do it? Could it be possible? Peter thinks of all the omegas Talia killed for being too far gone, all the omegas who weren’t so lucky. 

“If you save him, you would be made to be our messiah. To bring a feral omega back to his former self would be nothing short of a miracle.”

Stiles smiles unkindly. “Sounds like something the hunters will absolutely despise.”

Peter smirks. “That would be an understatement.”

 

*** 

 

Derek whines outside his window and Peter wishes he had the strength to let him in. 

He is surprised when Derek then opens it himself and stumbles into his room. He wonders just what Stiles has been doing for Derek to be able to do such a thing, and he feels hope. 

“Derek,” he breathes, beckoning him over. Derek comes to his side, nuzzling his hand and pressing closed kisses to his forearm. It is the most human-like affection he’s given him. Peter closes his eyes and basks in the attention. 

He startles when something soft presses against his lips. It is a lump of meat that Peter hadn’t noticed Derek bring in. He presses it against him again, an impatient noise escaping him. Peter allows him to feed him, and he immediately looks proud of himself. He continues like that until they run out of whatever animal Derek hunted for him. Peter thanks him. Derek nuzzles into his hand again.

 

*** 

 

Peter is discharged with a strict diet and an appointment with a physical therapist later in the week. It feels good to walk on his own two feet again. 

Stiles is waiting for him with Derek, who is standing still despite clearly wanting to rush to him. 

They help him into the jeep and his wheelchair into the back. It doesn’t feel so humiliating now that Stiles and Derek are the ones helping him. Stiles drives them to his house, and the ride doesn’t knock his bones together anymore. 

Peter accepts his mate’s arms around him and lets himself drift into unconsciousness.

 

*** 

 

Peter doesn’t leave Derek’s side in the coming months. He doesn’t think he’ll ever let him out of his sight again. 

Stiles continues searching for a cure, and Derek does get better. He hasn’t been able to shift into a human, but he can open doors and walk with decent posture again. The more time he spends with Peter, the more he’s able to understand them when they speak.

His affection is almost all wolf, but that’s okay. Peter doesn’t need to be kissed when his mate is all too happy to nuzzle into him for hours at a time. He doesn’t need to hold hands when his body is strewn across him every night. He doesn’t need to hear him say ‘I love you’ when he drags whole bucks to him regularly and shields him whenever something dangerous appears on the TV. 

“Pe-ter” he hears one night, the house quiet save for the steady beats of their hearts. 

Peter’s heart stops. Carefully, he takes a deep breath and says, “Derek?”

“Pee-ter.” He says again, rubbing his forehead into his chest. 

“That’s right, Derek,” Peter says, brushing the hair out of Derek’s eyes, fighting back tears, “I’m Peter. I’m Peter and you’re Derek, my beautiful mate.”

“Day-rek.”

“Yes, Derek. That’s right.” Peter sighs happily. “That’s exactly right.”

 

*** 

 

Peter can run again. 

Peter can run and it’s the greatest feeling in the world. Derek runs alongside him, tackling him every so often, biting at his ankles and face. Peter revels in it, soaks in the easy affection and leads them deeper into the woods. 

Peter tackles Derek, pushing them down a small hill. The tumble together, breathless, Peter straddling Derek’s waist. Derek surges up, licking a stripe up his neck. Peter tilts his head back, accepting the teeth at his jaw, kissing a line down his cheek, tangling his fingers in his hair. 

Derek rolls them so that he’s on top, and begins to claw at his shirt. Peter leaves him to it, and looks passively around them. 

They’re being watched. Peter freezes. Derek growls. 

There is a woman a few feet away. Her eyes are red. In that moment, she looks exactly like Talia, and Peter scrambles away in panic. 

She’s squatted down to his level, her head tilted to the side curiously. She looks like a wild thing, and it calms Peter enough for rational thought. Talia is dead, and she never allowed herself to look so inhuman. 

“I know you.” She says, and puts a stop to any thoughts of her being feral. “Why do I know you?”

She looks to Derek, and her eyes widen.

“Derek?” she says, darting to his side with alpha speed. “You’re alive?”

“This is Hale territory.” 

She looks to Peter, confused. “I should be telling you that. What are doing with Derek? What have you done to my brother?”

“Derek’s sister is dead.”

“Derek had two sisters.” She’s growing impatient. Peter beckons Derek closer, but he doesn’t listen, too busy smelling the alpha. 

“Derek?”

“Cora,” Derek says. “Cora pack. Peter pack. Peter mate.”

Understanding blooms on her face, and she goes soft. “Peter is your mate?” she asks Derek, running her hand through Derek’s hair.

Derek nods into her shoulder.

Peter remembers suddenly, one day when Talia came to him. She smelled different that day. She acted different that day too. He remembers her leaving rather abruptly, smelling of sickness. He remembers not seeing her again for another year. Peter looks at this alpha Derek is so close to, and he can see the resemblance. 

“If you are who you say you are, then that makes you the Hale alpha, and you ran. You let your brother become feral.”

“I was twelve!”   
   
Tears burn at the corners of her eyes, and she blinks them away. “My family. My pack. Everyone was dead, and the ones who killed them were everywhere. So yes. I ran. So sorry if I couldn’t think past the wolfsbane choking me.”

Derek whines, pulling Cora closer. She softens, and cards her fingers through his hair lovingly. “I’m here now.” She says to Derek. “Everything is going to be okay.”

Peter, thoroughly chastened, sat silently and watched as his mate becomes reacquainted with this stranger who carries his pack’s spark and calls herself family. His niece who does not know who he is, who was born long after his imprisonment. 

Initial impressions aside, she is nothing like her mother. Even the way she carries herself is different. She was never taught to hide who she was, to pretend like she was human. She is soft and patient with Derek, allowing him to press close and mutter broken thoughts. 

Peter meets his eyes and he sees intelligence there. Peter feels their bonds strengthen as they accept Cora for what she is, and he recognizes his mate once more. Peter thinks of seventeen years spent apart and he wonders if it’ll finally end.

Derek crawls over to him and pulls him into a kiss. When they break away, he’s smiling and his eyes are human.


End file.
